


The Smell of Chili and Rum

by Puregold



Category: Camp Camp (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Child Abuse, David is Max's new father figure I decided, Flashbacks, Foster Parent, Hurt/Comfort, Neil & Nikki are more of a brief mention than anything, Past Child Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Triggers, first of all david & max is abt parental bonding an shit, not weird-ass pedophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-20
Updated: 2017-07-20
Packaged: 2018-12-04 19:17:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11561625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Puregold/pseuds/Puregold
Summary: A strong whiff of spicy chili and rum, probably from the quarter master, hit me the moment I got to the doorway and panic flooded my mind. I had no time to think, just react as I turned and ran as fast as I could away from the cabin. Fuck, oh my God. My feet take me to the place here closest to my room without me telling them to, the boy's cabin, and I'm quick to throw some kids' suitcase in front of the door as a makeshift barrier as I dive to hide under my bed. My heart beats and head spins as I pant and pray to God that he won't find me.





	The Smell of Chili and Rum

**Author's Note:**

> It's okay max I suffer from child abuse too an I'm projecting on u lol. Also I headcanon that Max & his family are bilingual and they speak  
> hindi.

I watched as the sun began to set, scanning the distant horizon and hardly listening to Neil & Nikki idly bicker about whether Bear Grills was a real survivalist or not. Nikki believed him to be a saint of living in the wild, while Neil felt otherwise. I personally didn't give a shit and was content with sitting, my back against a tree as I waited for the chance to eat and go to bed. Today was _exhausting_. David made us go swimming in the lake and had us do a bunch of trust-based athletic exorcises, which led to a whole lot of campers-letting-other-campers-go-too-soon-so-they'd-hit-their-head-on-a-rock-instead-of-land-safely-in-the-lake based activities.

David called out for the campers to come to the mess hall for dinner in a chipper-and-sunshine voice which annoyed the hell out of Max, then went to go fetch the kid in the nurse's cabin (who had a concussion) some food. That's the thing about David. He's not _actually_ an adult. He's a broken adult, or a kid in an adult's body, because _real_ adults are harsh and cruel and mean.

Real adults were teachers who'd smack your fingers with a ruler for fidgeting during an exam. Real adults were uncles who stunk of alcohol and cigarettes breathing down your neck. Real adults would whoop you with their belts if you misbehaved. Of course, it's not like they give me any goddamn attention if I behave _well_ anyway, so what choice do I have? The only way they notice me is if I act out, then they hit me, and the cycle starts all over again.

We all stand with a groan, limbs aching from the days activities as the group of tired kids made their way down to the cabins. I attempted to wring out my hair some more, which was frizzy and soaked. Curly hair takes hours to dry and is a mess to deal with sometimes. How do I even manage? Of course Nikki, Neil & I are at the back of the group as kids start to crowd to get inside the mess hall, which would actually turn out to be a good thing when I reached the entrance.

A strong whiff of spicy chili and rum, probably from the quarter master, hit me the moment I got to the doorway and panic flooded my mind. I had no time to think, just react as I turned and ran as fast as I could away from the cabin. Fuck, oh my God. My feet take me to the place here closest to my room without me telling them to, the boy's cabin, and I'm quick to throw some kids' suitcase in front of the door as a makeshift barrier as I dive to hide under my bed. My heart beats and head spins as I pant and pray to God that he won't find me.

Suddenly I'm back home. My report card came back with me having a D in social studies, and that was unacceptable. They warned me before that if I got another C grade or lower, I was gonna get it. I waited in the kitchen for dad to come home, sitting at the dining room table as mom stirred the chili we were having for dinner slowly.

I trembled, biting my lip and fidgeting with my hands as tears built up in my eyes. "Mom-jii?..." I begin, hoping to plead for mercy.

"Speak only when spoken to. You knew what was coming. Wait for Pita in silence." She snapped with a thick Indian accent, not even looking over her shoulder as she prepped for dinner, knowing you wouldn't get any tonight.

I whimpered and looked at the back of her head, hoping to solicit some kind of motherly sympathy. Yet she remained cold, pouring a bowl for two as I sat in silence.

Speak of the devil, father arrived home and hung up his coat with a stern look on his face, unbuckling his belt in preparation for my punishment. I couldn't even hold back the tears until the punishment started, sobbing openly into my little hands, staring down at the kitchen tiles. Dad grabbed me on the forearm forcefully and tugged me into the closet off the side of the kitchen, demanding that I sit on my knees, back to him, and take off my shirt.

Of course, I had shakily obliged, taking off my shirt and sobbing, flinching as the buckles of his black belt struck across my back, leaving red marks and streaks of blood. I got ten lashes that night and afterwards was told to sit at the table with them for dinner, forced to watch them eat and my dad enjoy a glass of rum as my back bled against the wooden chair.

 

* * *

 

I left a cold rag over Nerris's head and checked her temperature as I gave her a bowl of chili from the mess hall. I frowned. Poor kid. She got Nurf as a partner during the trust activity and he dropped her right on top of a big 'ole pile of rocks! What a rude boy.

"It's hot and spicy and is guaranteed to get rid of all those shakes and shivers!" I commented to the sick kid. "Need anything else, Nerris?"

"No..." She mumbled as she ate a spoonful of the meal. "I'm jus' tired, David."

"Well, I'll leave you to rest, then. Get well soon!" I replied with a smile as I left the small cabin as quietly as possible. Behind me, I heard someone run past, and as I turned around I saw none other than camp troublemaker Max!

"Max!" I called out to the troubled boy. "Mess hall's the other way! Where are you going, silly?"

He either didn't hear me, or was completely ignoring me as he ran towards the boy's cabin and hurried inside, slamming the door shut. I quirked an eyebrow, perplexed. Max didn't tend to eat much, sure, since he and his friends were always _stealing all the gosh-dang pudding cups_ , but this behavior was strange. Not necessarily inappropriate, a nice change, but strange. Perhaps he was tired? But if he was tired why was he running? Hm. Perhaps I better check on him. I made my way up the cabin steps and knocked on the door quietly.

"Max? Are you okay in there?" I call out with no response. Then, shortly after I hear a sniffle and a whimper.

Wait, is Max _crying?_ Oh, no! I knew Max was a troubled and cynical boy, but I've never seen him cry before! Something must really be wrong!

I open the door and make my way inside, but Max is nowhere to be seen. "Max?" I ask again. "Are you in here?"

"I'm sorry" He replies from under the bed, and the tone of his voice is enough to break your heart.

 

* * *

 

I heard footsteps coming towards the door. Oh, fuck. He's gonna rip me out from under my bed and smack me so hard I break a cheekbone. Wait, what? No, I'm at _summer camp_ , he's not here! But I still hear footsteps, and now I'm crying and I can't stop. Tears flow off my cheeks and onto the floor below me as I try to steady my breathing and stop myself from whimpering in fear.

"Max? Are you okay in there?" I hear David's voice say from the other side of the door. Oh, fuck. David's gonna hear me crying. Shit. I sniffle, trying to wipe my tears away as I'm unable to hold back a pitiful whimper.

The door opens and now the footsteps are inside, closer. "Max? Are you in here?" I hear his annoyingly-delicate-voice say.

"I'm sorry." I reply, again without thinking. Fuck, I can't stop shaking. I'm terrified of the idiot optimist red-head and I don't know why.

He kneels beside my bed and looks under the bed at me, and I hide my face in my hands, furiously wiping at my tears with my sleeves. He can probably see me shaking.

"Well, why? You haven't done anything wrong. Recently, that is. Max?" He asks, sympathy coating his voice. "Why are you crying?"

I don't know what to say, and the question is so overwhelming that I just start sobbing, trying to fucking choke myself out by biting on the sleeve of my hoodie.

"Max, come on out. You can tell me what's wrong, it's okay." He says, offering his hand to you under the bed.

I obey on instinct. He's an adult and if I don't listen to him it'll only get worse. He wraps an arm around me and I'm torn between my hatred for this fake adult, and the fact that that I'm  _starved_ for physical affection. I end up caving in and sit in his lap, pressing my face against his chest and covering my mouth as I cry. He hugs me and it feels... Weird. Weird, but warm. It's nice. I can't even remember the last time I got a hug when I was distressed.

 

* * *

 

 

He doesn't tell me what's wrong, but he does cry himself out on my yellow camp t-shirt and I let him, rubbing his back in soothing circles and rocking gently back-and-forth. I don't think I've  _ever_ seen a camper cry as long or hard before, but it's okay. He's letting the negative emotions out and that's a good thing.

After a while, he stops, his breathing heavy and tired. At first I think he's fallen asleep, but as I raise a hand up to stroke his hair he quickly raises his own to smack mine away, and I giggle. "You ready to talk about it now?" I ask.

He takes a few deep breaths before answering, voice ragged. "You're not a _real_ adult." He mumbles into your shirt.

I squint at him slightly. "Well, what do you mean? I couldn't be your counselor if I wasn't an adult." 

He pauses a bit, then replies. "No. You're... Nice. And happy, and stupid..." He huffs. "Real adults aren't like that."

Oh, wow. I feel my chest tighten a bit with anxiety and my eyes go wide as I speak, gently. "Well... What are real adults like, Max?"

He pauses again. "Strict. They don't. Don't hug. An they punish, an... Hurt you."

There aren't very many times that I've been angry, but one of them is definitely now as I feel a cold pit of fury forming in my stomach. "What do you mean, Max? Do adults hurt you?"

He pulls away from my chest slightly, to rub at his bloodshot eyes, then refuses to look up at me as he glares at the "P" in "Camp" on my shirt. "Duh, dumb ass. They're supposed to. If they don't hit you when you do a bad thing, then your gonna keep doing it, so..." He trails off.

I feel myself getting hot with anger, swallowing as I try to keep my composure. "Max, that's not right. Adults aren't supposed to hurt you when you're bad. It's not okay."

When I say that, Max pulls away suddenly and jumps off with a start as if I'm hot coals. He stares at me with fury as he yells. "NO! THAT'S NOT TRUE! YOU'RE LYING!"

He glares as I stand, growing red in the face. "YOU BIG FUCKING DUMB ASS! DON'T YOU GET IT? THIS IS HOW THE WORLD WORKS! YOU... GET OUT! GET OUT!"

I sigh in pity as I start to leave. "Okay, I will. I see you need some space, but it's gonna be okay Max, alright?"

He seems wildly confused and angry as I leave him be, heading back to the mess hall with clenched fists and worry in my head.

How did I not see this? Of course he's been abused, dummy! He continuously eggs me on until I resort to yelling back at him, and when I do, he always... Flinches. Ugh. I feel sick. Of course he hates me. I'm nothing like any of the adults he's had the displeasure of interacting with. The poor kid's probably so confused!

After dinner (which Max is not present for), Gwen and I send the campers off to bed before retiring to our own cabin for the evening. I sit the bottom bunk and explain Max's situation to Gwen, and she almost doesn't believe me until remembering that I'm not a liar.

"What are we s'posed to do?" She asks, with a sad and tired expression.

"I-I don't know..." I reply. "We should probably call CPS, but I don't know what that means while he's at camp. 'Cause while he's here, he's away from his parents, right? If CPS takes him back to investigate, then he'll be with them again. Plus, it usually takes multiple calls for action to be taken, and... I don't know how Max would handle it."

"Yeah, foster care can be... Rough." Gwen replies contemplatively. "I don't know which would make Max more upset, to be honest."

I take a deep breath as I think. Max is convinced that his parents are right in the way that he's treated and that it's the same for everyone else. He deserves a better family, and love and affection, but I know that the older you get in foster care, the less likely you are to be adopted.

"Let's talk to Max about it in the morning." Gwen says after the both of you sit in silence for a bit.

I nod. "You're right. We should. This is... A big deal. And a problem."

I turn off the light and the two of us settle in to our own beds to sleep. Gwen passes out fairly quickly, but my mind is... Occupied. Primarily thinking about my poor camper and the awful situation he's stuck in. He hates me because I'm happy and nice and he believes that no one has a reason to be either of those things. Oh, God. I'm not sleeping tonight, am I?


End file.
